The Poetry of D. H. Lawrence. D. H. Lawrence

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The Poetry of D. H. Lawrence - D. H. Lawrence

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An erect small girl looking down at me;

       White-night-gowned little chits I see,

       And they peep at me over the edges

       Of the leaves as though they would leap, should

       I call

       Them down to my arms;

       "But, child, you're too small for me, too small

       Your little charms."

       White little sheaves of night-gowned maids,

       Some other will thresh you out!

       And I see leaning from the shades

       A lilac like a lady there, who braids

       Her white mantilla about

       Her face, and forward leans to catch the sight

       Of a man's face,

       Gracefully sighing through the white

       Flowery mantilla of lace.

       And another lilac in purple veiled

       Discreetly, all recklessly calls

       In a low, shocking perfume, to know who has hailed

       Her forth from the night: my strength has failed

       In her voice, my weak heart falls:

       Oh, and see the laburnum shimmering

       Her draperies down,

       As if she would slip the gold, and glimmering

       White, stand naked of gown.

       . . . . . .

       The pageant of flowery trees above

       The street pale-passionate goes,

       And back again down the pavement, Love

       In a lesser pageant flows.

       Two and two are the folk that walk,

       They pass in a half embrace

       Of linkèd bodies, and they talk

       With dark face leaning to face.

       Come then, my love, come as you will

       Along this haunted road,

       Be whom you will, my darling, I shall

       Keep with you the troth I trowed.

      Sorrow

       Table of Contents

      Why does the thin grey strand

       Floating up from the forgotten

       Cigarette between my fingers,

       Why does it trouble me?

       Ah, you will understand;

       When I carried my mother downstairs,

       A few times only, at the beginning

       Of her soft-foot malady,

       I should find, for a reprimand

       To my gaiety, a few long grey hairs

       On the breast of my coat; and one by one

       I let them float up the dark chimney.

      Dolor of Autumn

       Table of Contents

      The acrid scents of autumn,

       Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear

       Everything, tear-trembling stars of autumn

       And the snore of the night in my ear.

       For suddenly, flush-fallen,

       All my life, in a rush

       Of shedding away, has left me

       Naked, exposed on the bush.

       I, on the bush of the globe,

       Like a newly-naked berry, shrink

       Disclosed: but I also am prowling

       As well in the scents that slink

       Abroad: I in this naked berry

       Of flesh that stands dismayed on the bush;

       And I in the stealthy, brindled odours

       Prowling about the lush

       And acrid night of autumn;

       My soul, along with the rout,

       Rank and treacherous, prowling,

       Disseminated out.

       For the night, with a great breath intaken,

       Has taken my spirit outside

       Me, till I reel with disseminated consciousness,

       Like a man who has died.

       At the same time I stand exposed

       Here on the bush of the globe,

       A newly-naked berry of flesh

       For the stars to probe.

      The Inheritance

       Table of Contents

      Since you did depart

       Out of my reach, my darling,

       Into the hidden,

       I see each shadow start

       With recognition, and I

       Am wonder-ridden.

       I am dazed with the farewell,

       But I scarcely feel your loss.

       You left me a gift

      

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